"Uhhhh, everything's fine over here. Nothing... weird has happened...
.....over, sir."
NAME: Vasily "Glim" GrigoryevichFACTION: The Underground
RANK: N/A
SPECIES: Human
AGE: 23
SEX: Male
HEIGHT: 5' 10'' (~1.8m)
WEIGHT: 170 lbs (77 kg)
EYES: Hazel
HAIR: Black
SKIN: Pale
FORCE SENSITIVE: Nope
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STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES:
+/- For Hire: Money buys the gun.
+/- Psychotic: He once screamed at hostages loud enough a heist partner soiled his own pants. He's also prone to serious mood swings but is surprisingly careful about leaving behind evidence.
+ Software? Hardware: His father ran a software company, and he taught himself at a young age how to splice. He's not an expert, but he can get the job done.
+ Speaking of hardware...: Known to be able to use torches and drills with an experts touch, along with small quantities of explosives.
- Bad liar: Seriously, guy couldn't talk his way out of a paper bag.
- Nervous: They bring out the big guns? NOPENOPENOPE.
- Weak: He's athletic in that he's quick, but he's easy to overpower.
APPEARANCE:
Thin is a good word. Real thin; stick with legs. There's little to set Vasily apart from any other beanstalk in the galaxy. The black hair he sports is shorn to the scalp on the temples and back, leaving him to comb back the still long hair on the top. Keeping up his appearance as a 'professional' his facial hair is neatly trimmed; full beard, but almost stubble based on how short it's kept. He fills out his frame through the use of tailored suits, which add a little bit of size to him. And by size, of course, the more apt descriptor is presence.
He'll rarely show his eyes, preferring instead to roll with a battered old pair of sunshades. The most striking feature of his face is his gaunt cheeks, which stand out starkly when combined with his depressingly pale skin.
BIOGRAPHY:
Born on Alderaan, his parents divorced during his teenage years, leaving his mother to pursue her life with a new lover on Coruscant and his father to continue running the family software business. By helping his father he began delving into the world of computers although he never got very far. He wasn't too interested in following in the parental footsteps, after all. Once he was of age, he attended a local university to pursue a degree in chemical engineering.
However, the arrival of the One Sith changed that, forcing him to evacuate the planet under duress. He eventually found his way to friendlier space without a penny to his name and with little more than an ID half-burned by the time he'd gotten it from his dwelling. With his father missing and his life in shambles, he did what any sane man would do. He went unsane. Insane? Unsane. That is to say he turned to a life of crime. Sticking up small stores, committing extortion. You name it, he tried it.
But he found his calling where the most money could be made; robbery. With the galactic governments constantly in flux and currencies hard to track, physical currency had become something of a valuable commodity to most. In this, he found a way to get himself the money he'd lost when he'd abandoned his home to the Sith. His early attempts at thievery were amateurish, as to be expected, with little more than sackcloth to cover his face and a blaster pistol to wave around with an empty powerpack.
The more he worked, however, the more he could take with. Before long, he had himself an old, cheap - but reliable - scattergun to put to use. Visibly intimidating and perfect for the tight corridors of most building interiors. He even set to work on a mask, drawing on his past for inspiration.
There'd been a tale he'd heard growing up as a boy, of a being old and dark. One that often came from the Outer Rim on a ship lit only by emergency lighting. Any who worked on repairing or refueling the vessel disappeared, and the owner of the freighter was said to have two sunken pits for eyes with a mouth stained red from the blood of those his lies had killed.
Sadly, looking the part and being the part are two seperate things. Vasily couldn't tell a believable lie even when he wants to; his attempts at deception are often joked about by those he's worked with. That is until a hostage gets feisty, and the little man from Alderaan gets even feistier.
He hasn't killed a hostage... yet. But there's a clock ticking somewhere that says it's going to happen soon; the only thing usually holding him up from actually committing the murder is being needed to open safes. While the legal life suited him just fine, it's not a stretch to say that a criminal one fits him as snug as the suits he likes to wear. Thankfully, however, he's found out that Alderaan is back in Republic hands, and his father is safe and back to running the firm.
But he doesn't care.
SHIP:
KILLS:
BOUNTIES COLLECTED:
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ROLE-PLAYS:
I'd like to Make a Withdrawal [Faction]
Bottoms Up! [Public]
Technician [Saffron] - 50k
Do you love me now, Jon?
